


Whatever Souls Are Made Of

by 3amepiphany



Series: Drabbles 'n Bits [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Wedding Planner AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 18:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: Reception, until the article, had been one of Manhattan’s best-kept secrets for the longest time, and that was one of the things that Dom and Mal Cobb had prided themselves on - the word of mouth amongst the various circles of society had gathered them quite a clientele base.





	Whatever Souls Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing i will never finish; an inception au where everyone is wedding planners. idr if this was for a big-bang or just something that happened. - Saito would have come in eventually, I do recall having great plans for that nerd.
> 
> http://billetdouxnondistribue.tumblr.com/post/93171287347/another-thing-i-will-never-finish-an-inception-au

The problem Arthur had with the article was how the interviewer declared them a “one-stop matrimony shop” in the opening paragraph and said “instant wedding, just add bride and groom” somewhere on the second page. But he had to admit that the photos of the office space and the team themselves that were used were awesome. He flipped back and forth between the pages a few times as he sipped his coffee, and couldn’t wait to share it with Cobb, who wouldn’t be coming in until noon, as he was on a field trip with Philippa’s class. He was very pleased that the outside shots in the Park turned out great as well; his favorite was the one with the bride and groom (who had their backs to the camera in the shots they were in) standing hand-in-hand near the bridge in the Shakespeare Garden, with Yusuf drawing tailor’s marks in chalk on the groom’s suit and Ariadne sewing one of several beautiful satin flowers onto the train of the bride’s dress.

She was the first to get the magazine wiggled at her as she came in through the side door, arms heavy with the bolts of tulle she’d ordered in and her mouth full with half of a Krispy Kreme doughnut. Arthur had been ready to compliment her on wearing pastel colors for the photoshoot when he abruptly nixed that and said instead, “What the hell is that, you work with a pastry chef.”

She gave him a very angry look and set about freeing herself to talk and look at the magazine.

“I was hungry, forgive me if I don’t want to wait until nine. And at least I didn’t bring in McMuffins, who knows how much work I would have gotten done listening to you retch all day.” She took the mag from him and sat down on the couch in their break-ish area, trying to finish her snack quickly so she could get started in on her work.

“Yes, but Eames is making chocolatines this morning. _Chocolatines_.”

“He would have been here long before now to get that started, unless he’s making them for a _tasting this afternoon_.”

Arthur’s coffee mug stopped halfway to his mouth when the realization hit him. Eames _would_ have been here much earlier. He would have been here much earlier than _Arthur_. “Shit,” he said, and was about to fish his phone out of his pocket when Eames and Yusuf came in through the door, hands full of juice and coffee, and McDonald’s. As he passed Arthur’s desk, Eames set down a plain little waxed baggie and the largest coffee he had been carrying. Not McDonald’s. Arthur thanked Eames by touching his arm gently and giving him a soft smile.

“Good morning,” Eames said to him happily, and then, “Good news - the Sinclairs went with the pain au chocolat for the brunch instead of the raisin on the grounds that the nephew of the groom is allergic to cinnamon.”

Ariadne made a face and went “Aww, how is that good news? Poor kid!” She took the coffee he offered to her and looked over to Yusuf, who was digging through the bag he was holding for her McMuffins.

“I don’t think he’s too down on it, either way, it was great to have them make that decision without needing a testing–”

“Wait,” Arthur said, setting the bag back down on his desk, unopened, “We’ve just lost our big Thursday event and no one’s thought to tell me this?” His hands came up in a surprised gesture, long angular fingers curling for a moment and then uncurling.

“Well if you’ll give me a moment I’ll check my mobile again and forward the email to you, seeing as how we only just got it as we were sitting in the drive-through.” He was starting to clip his vowels, so Arthur sat down and let him do as he needed. Ariadne started talking about the article, and Arthur tuned her out to flip through his planner and refresh his email. He’d been waiting for Bowman Dahl to get back to him regarding an arrangement and was eager to get them on the Carlton ticket, but there was still nothing. He looked over at the trio browsing the magazine and pointing things out to one another, and then at the breakfast Eames had brought him. Inside the bag was a chasson aux pommes, obviously from the bakery near Eames’ place and not of Eames’s own usual, elegant handiwork, but he was very glad to have the rustic-looking treat anyways and tucked in.

Reception, until the article, had been one of Manhattan’s best-kept secrets for the longest time, and that was one of the things that Dom and Mal Cobb had prided themselves on - the word of mouth amongst the various circles of society had gathered them quite a clientele base. This was long before Ariadne and Yusuf worked for the business, and when Eames was still working at various bakeries and boulangeries around the Island, taking what jobs he could and running with them for as long as he had been, so all the cake/pastry catering was still being done by third parties or the locales themselves. The only other person besides the Cobbs that had any experience running the whole circus was Arthur. Mal plucked him right out of grad school through a tiny network of other small-business owners, and he very quickly proved to her and her husband that he was a dear asset. Not only was he supremely adept at keeping books but he did a very good job of creating contacts, storing them, and then unfolding them out when he needed certain ones the most like some sort of magician with a deck of cards. He was very punctual and pointedly organized, but was never one to turn down the relaxing quiet times at the Cobbs’ home, practicing his French with Mal and helping Dom as best as he could when she was pregnant and spent more time in bed than at work or events. Through another connection of hers she brought Eames onto the billing, when a customer asked for a few items that the caterer working with her would not do. It was good timing and a great decision for everyone involved; the charming British cad didn’t hurt for the rent pay since, nor did he have to worry about splitting his taxes or coordinating transportation to several different workplaces in a single day’s time again.

Things were steady for the longest time; Dom was a very happy man to work for and it showed in the little creases at the corners of his eyes; he was always quick to smile and was very gracious and easy to work with, and when Arthur couldn’t snag a great arrangement with a third party, he was incredibly good at turning that around and not in the least to Arthur’s chagrin, instead almost always to the young man’s relief - for at the end of the day the work was forever being done with the customers in mind. It was their objective to assist in the planning and help the brides- and grooms-to-be make the best and most creative decisions that they could and produce a wonderful day that was straight out of one’s dreams and into one’s memories. Cobb was good with people and helping them make decisions and he enjoyed that the most.

And Mal, Mal was a wonder to work with. Nearly every morning she’d bring in fresh fruit and flowers for the office, always had music going, and every bride they worked with found a great connection to have with her, causing a very stable work environment both at the office and on location for ceremonies. There was never a moment where they felt they had to back out of any arrangements, never moments where they felt pressured for or against something, and never moments where they felt the team was being overtly conducive just for the sake of leeway; she was very good at coordinating and designing, never went overboard and was exceptional at being given a reasonable idea and turning it into reality. She was a fun but calming presence, and was spoken of highly by ladies in the social circles of upper Manhattan and Dom was usually overheard saying that he couldn’t have dreamed himself a better partner in work and life. Arthur utterly adored the way she was able to reserve almost any locale, and strove to follow her techniques and finesse, and he was sure to never forget the day he managed to get in on Gramercy for a small ceremony and she literally threw him a party. Mal was never sparing with her affection and was always there to cheer him on or challenge him to push for those few extra details, and he could recall any method or trick she’d taught him – and she’d taught him so much. Her determination was amazing when it came to the job but her devotion to her family (and to Arthur and even Eames, later on) was unmeasurable.

Philippa was six and James was only three weeks after having turned two when she committed suicide.

The news did not prioritize the story, and it was an incredibly good thing that they did not for the circumstances were such that Dom got into a lot of hot water where the investigation was involved. He was angry and hurt and nearly very much destroyed, and said a lot of things that were taken as implications. But in the end there was no scandal, no news-breaking announcements, nothing more tragic to the happening than her funeral and the sight of the widower clutching his children as if they were the last bits of hope keeping him alive. And in a way, they were.

Reception refused new business for a short time, letting the staff collect themselves and their thoughts, have time to grieve, and sort out a lot of the after-effects. Arthur spent a lot of this time helping Dom, being there for him and the children, and doing small correspondence work out of the office and still making public appearances for the company at small boutique shows and the like. Eames took some of the time and the money he’d saved to visit family in London, and by the time he’d come back Arthur couldn’t stand being without events to work. With Dom’s permission they re-opened their queue and set down to make hundreds of phone calls, and for a while it was just the two of them with Dom occasionally lending a hand.

Inundated with dress-hunting and favor-making, huge catering-sized orders of petite fours or other treats, and then finally a few large-scale ceremonies, they hired Yusuf, but that was because the man had shown up to help Eames move a cake (a small job paid for initially in beer and good chinese food atop their apartment building, where it was a small, welcome break for Arthur to just take his shoes off, soak them in the kiddie pool they’d set up, and watch the sun set) and he wound up fixing the shirt of the best man moments before the wedding party was due out to the altar for the ceremony, which surprised Dom because really, who does that and is _awesome_ at it? He left the consultation job he had at Bergdorf Goodmans for something a little more relaxed and with a clientele that was happy to have the department store detail and contacts minus the department store feeling, and the large amount of it that was coming from the second wind that was starting to billow Reception’s sails.

Dom’s father-in-law Miles suggested Ariadne as an intern shortly after Yusuf’s joining the team and she’d stuck with them since, juggling her coursework and the job itself as best as she could. Arthur was extremely happy to have the helping hand with his end of the details and was as accommodating as he could be with her schedule during the semesters. She quickly showed her interest in staying on with the business by picking up what he had taught her about maximizing the usage of small spaces and ultimately becoming as good at it as Arthur himself. Her growing knowledge of architecture and design placed her at a very nice junction between spatial coordination and client demand. Dom enjoyed her work personally, and she meshed very well with Arthur’s work habits, and Eames did admit that he was very happy to have a lady’s presence back in the workspace. She was really pleased with her new little niche, even if she was teased a lot and was forever threatening Eames not to make her fat with all of his baking experiments or she’d sit on him.

Which she was yelling about now, as Arthur’s attention drifted back from the email he was composing and to the conversation going on behind him. Eames looked back at him with that wide grin of his and all he could do was smile back. Ariadne immediately jumped on this. “Don’t tell me you’re on his side. I’ve just been looking at new dresses for summer, this isn’t fair.”

“Your breakfast was any better?” She made a face at him and stood, putting her hands on her hips and saying she had work to do and everyone but Yusuf had better leave her alone for the day. The said everyone, Eames and Arthur, tried to hold back their laughter. Arthur saved his email as a draft, downed what was left of one coffee and started in on the other, and came to join Eames and Yusuf in the sitting area. “So what do you think?” he asked, motioning to the magazine.

“I think Cobb will be very pleased,” the tailor said, finishing his hashbrown. He himself looked very pleased with it, but that’s how he was with almost everything, unless it was a nest of loose threads at a seam. He went on to say how much he particularly liked the bit about Ariadne’s work, and how articulated the author of the article had been about it. And Arthur nodded; he did enjoy that a lot too. He made a mental note to pick up a bottle of the plum sake that she liked (cheap and overly sweet stuff she’d picked over a dinner out one night and managed to decimate all by her tiny self) and gift it to her. It was just a wonder that she wasn’t bragging on and on about the “No two weddings at any location the same” line that touted her highly detailed but delicate visions and the way everyone pretty much called her their go-to-gal around the workspace. He at least thought she’d be holding that over their heads in exchange for lunch or dinner or something.

“I think that shirt I picked out for you is very handsome,” Eames said.

“That reminds me,” Arthur mumbled, consulting his little notebook in a very obvious manner. “I’ve decided I’m turning my spare bedroom into a closet. So sorry.”

The British man only laughed and said “But isn’t that just perfect anyways?”

“You’ve been so far out of the closet that I think you’ll just find it very alien,” said Yusuf, getting a playful shove and a grin from Eames.

“You’re just lucky you found a place as quick as you did. This month-to-month thing is just very.. it’s very repelling,” he replied.

Arthur pursed his lips together for a moment, but said anyways, “You’ve been at my place so much in the last year that you really should just have quit your lease or sub-letted earlier.”

And it was the truth. Arthur had lost count extremely fast of just how many times the man had come over and asked to shower or shave or cook or stay a weekend because of whatever reason was beleaguering his apartment building at any time (why he never asked these things of Yusuf, who had settled his own lease and was on to much better living options with friends along upper Broadway, Arthur wasn’t sure) and he’d begun to _leave things_ , which didn’t really irritate Arthur so much after the first few times, it was just annoying and then kind of an afterthought and then he figured as long as it was all kept tidy it was pointless to throw any kind of energy towards correcting it. That’s how Eames had always operated when it came to Arthur though, long-term, and how he probably always would; Arthur minded, then not so much, then not at all. At least until Eames did something just to get reactions out of him, especially when they were having a disagreement. That didn’t happen as frequently as it used to at work; Mal wasn’t around to mediate with her calm, “Oh, Arthur,” and her knowing “Charles, dear,” any longer, and they tried to avoid creating mutually awkward scenes when they could.

Not that Ariadne and Yusuf minded at all, they also had become conducive to the way the pair worked together and often joined in the teasing too. Had Dom been there he would have ignored the whole exchange; he was generally good at dissolving terse situations, but he was even better at not getting involved. He watched Eames shrug off the small admonishment, and they talked a bit about the movers they needed to schedule and when Yusuf might be available to help, and finally Arthur pulled out his planner and notebook and they discussed the weekends’ events they had. He himself was anxious about living with someone again, forget the fact that it was Eames, he’d just been on his own for a very long long time and it made him very nervous to think about it. Dinky hotel rooms on trips were one thing, Eames on the spare cot in the office had another, and this whole venture was an entirely different beast. He was still very new to the idea of waking up to the smell of someone else in his bed. But he figured it would cut the rent, and, well, Eames wasn’t too intrusive a sleeper at night, and he was into Arthur too, so that helped some.

He would just rather discuss that over lunch later, instead of in front of Yusuf and Ariadne. Not, again, that they minded.

While they spoke he heard the phone ring, Ariadne answer, and then her waiting patiently for a good pause in the conversation to butt in. “Arthur, you may want to take this, he sounds pretty self-important and wants to talk to ‘whomever is in charge,’ so,” was all she said. And when he asked who the caller was, she only shook her head and handed him the cordless handset. She stayed to listen, and the other two gave her odd looks but waited to listen too.

“This is Arthur Arceneau, Reception Design.”

“Mr. Arceneau, hello. This is Robert Fischer Jr., how are you?” The name made Arthur’s back stiffen.

“Exceptionally well today, thank you for asking.” Eames mouthed ‘Who is it?’ at him and he made a motion for them to wait just a moment. “What can I do for you today, Mr. Fischer?”

Eames made a face, obviously not totally familiar with the name outright, but suddenly Ariadne made a face too and she grabbed his shoulder and the couch and her mouth opened in a silent ‘o’ of shock. He turned and looked at her as if she had just lost her mind. Yusuf took another sip of his coffee.

“My fiance is interested in your services,” Fischer said. “She just called me and said I must get you, something about an article she’d just read.”

The brilliant thing about Spring-into-Summer weddings was that they were a complete breeze to plan. They were almost always held outside at the Park and there was no trouble from the City in getting a permit, and there was no shortage of options for floral arrangements, and a lot of the times the wedding party was apt to just have small hours d’oeuvres catered alongside the cake and a lavish dinner somewhere else nearby. Dresses were light and airy and didn’t need much in the way of attention save for small details, and the same went for most of the menswear and the table cloths or seat covers or the various decorations that would be used. Everything is easy on the eyes and favors were simple and the weather was usually cooperative past March and Arthur just loved the fact that Fischer said his fiance was looking for a late Spring wedding. Loved, loved, loved it.

The not so brilliant thing was that it was almost late Spring now. It was mid-March, and the businessman said they were hoping for mid-April.

Arthur tried not to show his reluctance but he did wave frenetically to catch the attention of everyone to his hand and what he was doing to his date book: drawing a thick line through the Sinclair appointment and then writing in very big letters, “FISCHER-MORROW” and hesitating on a time. Ariadne clapped both hands over her mouth and started dancing about, and Yusuf gave her a big smile, totally amused by her reaction. “So Mr. Fischer, we want to realize that this gives us little time to work and prepare, but perhaps you and your fiance would like to join us on Thursday for a consultation? You’ll meet our staff and we can all sit down and get a better idea of what you’d like to have ready and by when. Would that day work for you?”

“This coming Thursday? Certainly, I could make time for it. Is noon workable for your staff?”

As he penned in a giant 12 PM he graciously said it would be perfect, that they needn’t bring anything but themselves and what ideas they had, and it should only last two hours at the most.

Ariadne shot off to her desk to grab her phone and then darted outside just as quickly, and as soon as the call ended, Arthur sat back on the couch with a heavy sigh. Eames and Yusuf watched him carefully.

“She’s obviously on top of this,” he said after a bit. They conceded with a small nod.

Cobb made it in to the office around one, with Philippa and a plastic bag in tow. Eames had just pulled his chocolatines out of the oven and was ready to offer part of one to the girl when she shook her head and said no, thank you, in a quiet voice. She sat on the couch with her stuffed rabbit and tapped the edge of the coffee table with her sneakered feet. “What’s got you down, my bunny?” the baker asked her in his funny accent.

“She got sick at the end of the field trip,” her father answered, shifting through the handful of messages on his desk in Ariadne’s and Arthur’s handwriting. “All over her favorite sweater. We’re on our way home for some rest, as soon as I’m finished here.”

Arthur called him over. “Dom, we’ve got a bit of a scheduling emergency.” He tapped the day planner and said, “Robert Fischer wants us, and we’ve got a month.”

The older man ran a hand through his hair and flipped forward through the pages of the planner to see what else was on run for Spring, and then he settled against the edge of Arthur’s desk with a sigh. “Alright, well, we won’t be too far off if we handle this right. Go ahead and take it, if you feel they want to stay with us past Thursday, but don’t set anything or anyone else aside. How in the hell did he hear about us?”

“The article.” Arthur clicked his pen a few times, handing Cobb the magazine. “What do we do about anyone else that may come after him because of it?”

“…Late Summer and onwards, only, no exceptions.”

The slim assistant frowned slightly but then straightened his posture and set forth, making notations in his own datebook and very quickly getting lost in thought.


End file.
